


Kingdom Come (Before, After, and Now)

by Chatote



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), From the very beginning, The Arrangement (Good Omens), and Crowley's flower shop, and some historical stuff, and the cottage, like Abraham and the book of Tobit, the Garden(s) and what happened in it, there will be bible fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 02:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chatote/pseuds/Chatote
Summary: Things change. Heaven does too. The Fall, for example, lead to a big shift of the order of the Universe (and of Heaven). The failed Armageddon too.A story of what happened before, after, and in between those big moments.





	Kingdom Come (Before, After, and Now)

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by both the book and the tv-show, meaning it isn't 100% compliant with both. It does stay canon-compliant.

The first question ever asked in this universe—which happens to be the second most common question in this universe—was ‘What’s the point?’ (1). It hadn’t been asked in the gloomy manner people say it nowadays, but with genuine interest and a desire to know and understand. Why did God create the Universe? What was the point, the goal, the purpose of creating it? Was there any? It had been asked, as you might have guessed, by the archangel Raphael once God had shared Her vision with Her children. The only answer he got was a smile. 

_(1) It wasn’t, strictly speaking, the first question ever asked, but it was the first interesting one._

The second question ever asked in this universe—which happens to be the most common question in this universe, although its wording often varies—was ‘Where is the loo?’ (2). This question had been asked by the archangel Barachiel a few awkward moments after Raphael’s and had shifted the focus of Heaven from an almost blasphemous theological inquiry to a more practical—and less disturbing—problem. As it turned out, Heaven lacked what most cities on Earth lack, which is decent public restrooms. This culminated in the only lavatory in Heaven having a waiting list of seven decades, which explains why most angels didn’t use their sense of taste as often as they would have liked. This resulted them slowly loosing any enjoyment of drinks and food, while humanity developed its interest in the culinary art and improved its cooking skills (3). 

_(2)Celestial beings not needing to drink, eat or go to the loo, there is only one restroom in Heaven. However, even them enjoy a good meal and a trip to the toilets once in a while. A delegation of lesser angels once tried to talk Michael into building a second restroom, but she had stayed deaf to their demand. _

_(3) However, an angel with both restrooms and good food at his disposition will slowly rediscover those simple pleasures. _

Although the history of toilets is a fascinating subject, it is not, sadly, our focus here. I thus invite—and force—you to go back to the archangel Raphael. His question had been dismissed by Heaven, but kept twisting and expanding and jumping left and right in his mind like a wandering balloon. Don’t get it wrong, he loved God’s vision and was in a hurry to make it a reality, but his thoughts were an anxious young adult overthinking their life decisions while facing the impending doom of the world. They would stay in a dark corner most of the time, exhausted, but scream and run in circles now and then, between painting a nebula and sketching a planet’s foundations (4). 

_(4) Common knowledge isn’t aware of it, but the eight archangels—for there had been eight archangels in the Beginning—are the ones who designed our universe to give birth to God’s vision. They had split into two groups. _

_ Michael’s was in charge of space, and all that wasn’t alive. Raphael was uniquely talented with nebulas but had more fun drawing planets; Gabriel loved arranging galaxies and making them dance, although it looked more like a military parade than a ball; Lucifer was a star-maker, and would leave a trail of white, red and yellow blazes in his wake; Michael was what one would call the ‘Designer’, putting everything exactly where it had to be and linking all those celestial bodies together with various forces and energy flows. _

_ The other group, led by Uriel, was to create all the living creatures who would inhabit space. Selaphiel had taken care of plants, painting their soft petals and sharpening their thorns; Raguel was the inventor of all animals—except humans—on earth, in the deep waters and high above the clouds; Barachiel was the builder of all that didn’t fit in those two categories; Uriel, who was Michael’s equivalent, had to make sure all of them were properly working on the same basic mechanic. _

_ This is why neither Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer nor Raphael know how the human body works. _

  
This entire business had happened quickly and had been finished on Sunday, 14th of October, 4004BC (5). There had been a lot of work, what with supervising the schedules, finding all the resources, listening and answering lesser angels’ complaints, dealing with setbacks and all. Michael and Uriel had led everyone like two complementary conductors, the six other archangels acting as their lieutenants. Once all the building achieved, Raphael and Lucifer were asked to oversee the layout—meaning they were leisurely lying on a sofa made of stardust while the other angels were buzzing around them like bees around their queen, pushing and pulling planets and stars to put them in the precise spot Michael had planned for them.

‘What do you think God looks like?’ Lucifer asked as they were watching a team of angels try to restart the fires in the hearts of Alpha Centauri (6). His head was resting on the smaller angel’s shoulder, with his golden locks elegantly pulled in a loose bun that spread like a halo around his face, and his summer-blue eyes hungrily gazing at the universe. Raphael shrugged.

‘Bit like us, probably,’ he said. ‘Dunno why we still haven’t seen Her. It’s so odd when she talks or smiles and we see but don’t see at the same time. Maybe Michael has.’ Lucifer snorted. He and Michael had a silent war going on since he had challenged her views on how the universe should be arranged, one spring and the other autumn, so similar and different, never meeting but always fighting. One of Michael’s stare had been enough to turn Lucifer’s notebook into ashes that got carried into space by the wind. Raphael glanced at his brother. For the first time since he had asked his question out loud, he felt he could voice it again. Here, surrounded by the young stars and the low murmur of busy angels, his brother at his side and a bottle of nectar in the hand, his worries disappeared. ‘Why would She create all this,’ he whispered, letting the words roll on his tongue, pass his lips and fly away on their own like young birds leaving the nest to discover the wild world on their own, ‘if it wasn’t to appreciate it Herself? What is even the point of anything if we’re just meant to build it, and humans are too busy suffering to enjoy it. His hands started playing with Lucifer’s hair without him realising. 

‘That’s blasphemy, brother,’ Lucifer replied in a low voice, not looking at Raphael as if he was afraid of what might happen if he let the newly freed birds land in the forest of his own mind. Sparks flew, setting fire to the wings of an unlucky angel who plunged toward the coldness of the void and disappeared in the darkness like a dying candle. Alpha Centauri stayed frozen, its two stars too obsessed with each other to care for the failed attempts of those who were trying were working to give them warmth and life. 

‘Is it?’ Raphael muttered. ‘I’m not going against God. I love what She’s created. All I want is for someone to enjoy our work.’

‘Why shouldn’t we?’ Lucifer wondered in the manner of one who has been living in the dark all his life and has just discovered light. His eyes were fixed on something no one else could see, past the limits of space and time, in the immensity of What if? Raphael shook his head, waking up from the sweet haze of secrets told in the confidence of friendship. 

‘Now that is blasphemy.’ He tucked a red strand of hair behind his ear. 

‘But what is to come after?’ Lucifer insisted. ‘Once all is built, what are we to do?’ He sat up, his voice rising with excitement as his reflections unrolled like an ancient parchment enclosing the secret of eternal happiness. ‘Will you be the Archangel of Healing for the rest of time? Be God’s slave? Will we never just… be?’ Raphael frowned. 

‘We’re angels, Lu. Taking care of humans, that’s what we do.’ 

‘You really believe it, don’t you.’ Lucifer finally looked at Raphael, an unreadable expression on his face. There was something new in his eyes, something Raphael had never seen before. It was a new colour in the universe, one that wasn’t meant to be but had come out the rainbows, free, new and unpredictable. It was new melody stirring away from the lead instrument to create its own symphony. Raphael could almost hear it. 

A scream broke the silent. It shattered in a thousand pieces, their edges sharp enough to cut through the hardest skin. A series of shooting and the flap of wings followed. Lucifer tore his eyes away from Raphael to look at the source of this disturbance, taking the secret of novelty away and hiding it behind schooled features. Without choice, Raphael did the same. Alpha Centauri had jumped out of its hinges and was rolling around, crushing everything that stood in its way. Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the stars went back to their place, small fires now purring in their centres. 

‘Lu…’ Raphael called, but the moment had passed and Lucifer had bolted out of the sofa. He was now heading toward a group of angels who had just let one of Jupiter’s satellites fall and were struggling to piece it back together. 

Raphael was left with the feeling that he had made a mistake, and the damages it could do would not be easily repaired. He vowed to stay silent. 

_(5) God used the next seven days to put the finishings touches and create human beings. _

_(6) It had been Raphael’s special project. He had pitched it to Michael as special binary star system—two stars orbiting so closely together that most people would think it was only one. Lucifer had been extremely annoyed at not thinking about it himself. _

Thus began a spiral of subtle changes. They were nearly imperceptible, the kind you could only see if you were familiar with the place and, even then, you had to squint and really look to see them. It was a smile more guarded than before, not as carefree as it used to be. It was an evening spent with lesser angels rather than with his nobler siblings, the absence of an expected laugh, the lack of touch. It was small clues scattered across their lives like a tray of pebbles. Raphael could see them. He could see Lucifer drifting away like a boat on an angry sea, and feel the weight of guilt and worry when, despite his best efforts, the storm didn’t stop and the sea didn’t quieten. 

The celebration that took place in Heaven once the Work completed was one that has yet to be equalled. Little fires were running on wide branches, their blue lights dancing on the trunks of oaks older than Heaven itself. Red candles were floating in the air, the light of their flickering flames dancing on the fountain’s holy water under the stars. The breeze carried a soft music, each melody having a life of its own, some waking small tornadoes that made fallen leaves stir back to life, others ruffling through the feathers of wise owls perched on the top of the trees. Flowers of all kinds—daffodils, orchids, begonias and roses being the main ones—were forming peaceful oceans of purple, blue, orange and red. An overwhelming perfume was coming from them, strong enough to make one lose touch with reality and dream themselves slipping and sleeping, enveloped by strong arms and warm covers. Ivy was climbing up the archways and high ceilings like the fingers of the earth reclaiming the building for herself. 

The only criticism one could make was that the food wasn’t as scrumptious as one could hope—most angels didn’t care much for food anymore. It lasted a week, but half of the hosts of Heaven were knocked down in the first three days. 

‘We did good,’ Gabriel said, grabbing glasses of ambrosia on a flying tray and handing them to Raphael, Uriel and Michael before taking a spit of his own and humming in contentment. 

‘We did,’ Michael agreed. She was standing stiffly, as if she would rather be anywhere else but here. 

‘Come on, Mickey,’ Uriel said, passing an arm around her shoulders. ‘No more making timetables, no more last-minute problems, no more fear of failure. We are freeeeee.’ Michael nodded again, unconvinced, and set on muttering against her nickname. Gabriel sighed. 

‘So Uriel, tell us about your work. I’m quite curious about those giraffes of yours. Micheal and I were chatting about it earlier. Why such a long neck?’ 

Raphael listened distractedly. The balcony was overlooking a garden from which was rising the low hum of conversations. Islands of angels were discarded in the green sea of grass, between rocks of dense bushes and waves of braves doves trying to steal food from the shores. Lucifer was monologing in the centre of one of those islets, the angels around him stunned and focussed, as if listening to their to their prophet. They were li—

‘Raph? Raph!’ Raphael was jolted out of contemplation by an amused Gabriel. ‘Lost in your thoughts, weren’t you?’ He hummed. Behind him, Uriel whispered to Michael, before leaving to bring back more nectar. 

‘What are we expected to do now?’ The words had left his lips before he had time to seal them completely, and Raphael regretted letting them out as soon as they escaped. He could feel Michael’s burning stare on his neck, and saw Gabriel freeze, like stunned by a thunderbolt, for a brief second. 

‘Execute God’s will,’ Michael answer matter-of-factly. ‘As angels do.’ Gabriel coughed. 

‘Anyway, Mickey, have you been to the 78th quadrant? Raph and I were talking about how wonderful it is. There’s this huge—’ Raphael let Gabriel’s voice wash over him and turned back toward the garden. Lucifer was still there, laughing and dancing among the others like a sun dances with its planets. 

‘He shouldn’t be meddling with them.’ Raphael jumped, once more startle back to the present. ‘Gabriel has gone in search for ambrosia,’ Michael added when Raphael looked for him over her shoulder. She was leaning on the balustrade, her eyes fixed on Lucifer. 

‘Why not?’

‘There’s a hierarchy. Not respecting it leads to chaos.’ Raphael frowned. 

‘That doesn’t sound right.’

‘And yet, we all do. Even you. God announces Her will to the Metatron. The Metatron passes it to us. We tell lesser angels what to do to accomplish it.’ 

‘Why can’t we talk to Her directly? Why hadn’t we seen Her sinc—’

‘Raphael!’ Michael was standing back, dark clouds obscuring her face. ‘You ask too many questions. I suggest you stop doubting God, for you own good.’ With those words, Michael left, leaving Raphael wondering why asking questions equalled lack of trust to so many angels and since when Michael was… threatening? Threatening people. 

When Gabriel came back with two bottles of nectar and a good joke, the balcony was empty. 

Nothing much happened afterwards. The Work had been done, the Universe was built and running, and Humans hadn’t been created yet. Heaven had absolutely nothing to do during the six days that God had claimed to finish it. Which is probably why it happened so fast. 

  


Lucifer was pacing. He had narrowly escaped Gabriel, who was looking for someone to play chess with. Michael was excellent, as good as himself, but would probably decline in favour of papers to fill or files to proofread. Raphael, who was an utter disaster at chess, would probably agree. Not because he liked the game, but because he wouldn’t find any excuse quickly enough. Uriel was too busy spying on him, and the three other archangels were put off but Gabriel’s constant happiness and amiability. Sometimes, Lucifer thought they had created Labradors with him in mind. 

Angels were beginning to arrive. Lucifer had found a basement used for constructions too large to be done in the workshops, and now forgotten by everyone. Vegetation had started to invade it, but large meetings could still be held. Lucifer had spread the word amongst those he thought interested. 

The archangels couldn’t know about it. Not yet. It had been difficult to keep it all secret with Uriel following his every move and Raphael always trying to spend more time with him. Lucifer sighed. Raphael, despite his profound questions, lacked this tiny bit of imagination and boldness required to share Lucifer’s vision. But he would, in time. 

The room was now full of angels. The last ones were pressing at the door, trying to find an empty chair or a place to stand along the black walls. Lucifer had discovered that a lot of them resented the archangels. Most of them weren’t thinking about the why like Raphael, but understood the hierarchy that Michael held dear and wanted a higher spot on the ladder. Or, at least, more consideration. That was something Lucifer could use. As for the few who were wondering about the why’s, he was planning on using them later. 

‘My friends,’ he began, waiting for the voices to quieten. ‘My friends, you all know why we are here. We are here because we will not accept the state of things. What is the nature of our existence? We were made to obey God, serve Humans and stay silent. We are the tongue-tied mechanicians, the builders of what is an endless miracle for which we gave our time, our sweat and our strength; and now that we have achieved our given task, we are put away in a gilded cage until She has use for us again. None of us is allowed to get out. None of us is free to do what they want, when they want and how they want. That is the painful truth.

‘Why aren’t we allowed to enjoy the fruits of our labour? There are pleasures waiting for us in the universe. The pleasure of walking in a field, surrounded by the song of birds, a soft breeze stroking our skin as the sun shines upon us. The joy of strolling in the forest, encountering a fawn, maybe, witnessing the blooming of a rose as its perfumes slowly wraps us in its welcoming arms. Picking a strawberry and tasting it. The simple satisfaction of laying on the warm sand, cradled by the coming and going of the tide and the laughs of seagulls. Why shouldn’t we enjoy it all? Because the pyramid of Heaven is ruled by archangels, themselves led by a single entity. There, my friends, is the answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single name — Michael. Michael is the sole obstacle we have. Remove her, and we will be free.

‘She is the only one at the top of the Heaven’s ladder. She gives orders and lays back while we work. She thinks you can’t unionise against her. She thinks Heaven would collapse, were you in charge. She thinks we shouldn’t ask questions. 

‘God said freedom of will. God said make a universe. God didn’t say stay out of it. Michael did. All we did and do is under her vision of the world, not ours, not God’s. So I ask you, my friends, we do you want to obey: God or Michael? 

‘Is it not clear, then, that all the evils of this existence of ours result from Michael’s rule? God is blinded by Her trust in Michael. The Metatron won’t let us reach Her. What should we do? Why, work and rebel. The few angels who aren’t with us tonight will see the truth of our words once we spread them. How can they not? There will only be seven archangels against us. Less, for not all of them will follow Michael. That is my message to you, my friends: Unite! Together, we are strong. Together, we can regain our freedom. Together, before the sixth day of God’s work fades away, we shall be free.’

The low growl of approval that had begun during Lucifer’s speech exploded in a roar of applauses. A few angels had risen from their seat, ready to fight as soon as Lucifer gave the word, others were debating violently about the best way to overthrow the current administration, a few were trying to sneak out. The two angels who were guarding the door stopped them before they could escape. 

‘And why should you, an archangel, lead us?’ a voice boomed over the chaos. A small smirk, too small to be seen by anyone, appeared on Lucifer’s lips. He had been waiting for this question. The question that would assure him the leadership of those rogue angels. He couldn’t see who had asked it among the hundreds before him. It didn’t matter. 

‘Because, pray tell, who else would want to defy the archangels head on? If one of you is ready to take the lead and walk on the Archangel’s Lodgings, may they stand up and join me? I will gladly obey them. But please, don’t do me the insult of believing I take pleasure in betraying my sibling, even though I do it for the interest of us all.’ The silence that followed was deafening. Most had their eyes cast downwards, and were glancing around them, waiting for someone to build up enough courage to stand up. Lucifer was surveying them, engraving in his memory those who hesitated, whose muscles were tensed, whose eyes were eyeing the stage instead of admiring the floor. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he said when it became clear that no one would step up. ‘Now, here’s what we’re going to do.’

He found Raphael on a hill. He was grooming his wings (7) with all the care and patience that this task requires, too absorbed by it to notice Lucifer who stopped and watched. Raphael’s fingers were smoothing the feathers, sometimes discarding one he thought too damaged to keep. The leaves above Lucifer’s head ruffled. He didn’t look, already knowing Uriel was hiding up in the branches.

‘Raphael?’ The archangel looked up. A smile shone on his face. A small ball of soft feathers was sleeping on the grass next to him. 

‘Lucifer.’ His eyes followed the other angel suspiciously until he was sat at his side. ‘What are you up to?’ he said as he returned to grooming his wings.

‘Me?’ Lucifer exclaimed in a mock impression of innocence. ‘I am up to nothing at all, and fin myself hurt and betrayed by your accusation.’ Raphael rolled his eyes. ‘What are you up to with him?’ He pointed at the duck. 

‘He was half-drowning in the pond. I think he sprained his wing.’

‘You healed him?’

‘Obviously!’ Raphael exclaimed. ‘Do you really think I would have leave him like that?’ Lucifer shrugged. Raphael stared at him. ‘What are you up to?’ he repeated. And because Lucifer was about to object again, he added: ‘You have the same expression you had when you messed up Gabriel’s chessboard.’

‘Yes, but you have to admit, it was a good one. I still see Michael and him pulling it and both landing in Uriel’s vegetable patch every time I close my eyes.’ Raphael chuckled at the memory. 

‘True, it was a good one.’ 

They fell into a comfortable silence. Lucifer pushed gently on Raphael’s shoulder so that he was lying with his head on Lucifer’s lap, his red crown like fire against the green grass, and began smoothing Raphael’s wings himself. 

‘Why do you always get rig of the old ones?’ he inquired as he came to a feather that had lost its vivid colour. 

‘Dunno. I prefer it this way. Why don’t you?’ Lucifer stroked the feather and kept going without plucking it. 

‘I think there’s beauty in imperfection.’ Raphael thought about it.

‘Is there something you want to talk about?’ he asked after some time. Lucifer’s hands on his wings was making him sleepy—although angels don’t need sleep—and he was about to give in to the small temptation of a nap. Lucifer took his time to answer. 

‘Do you remember when we were handing the stars around the universe, and one of them fell on an angel and broke her wing?’

‘Yes,’ Raphael said, although he didn’t quite understand why Lucifer was bringing it up. ‘I went to see her afterwards. She healed quite nicely.’

‘Really? Good. Anyway, do you know what Michael said when she head about it? Or rather, do you know what Michael did and said when she heard about all the accidents and complaints of the other angels? Nothing. She did nothing at all.’ Raphael looked uncomfortable but not surprised by Lucifer’s revelations, but then, Lucifer hadn’t expected him to be. It wouldn’t be like Raphael not to question that sort of behaviour. 

‘She must hav—‘ 

‘Don’t find her excuses,’ Lucifer cut him. ‘She doesn’t listen to anyone or try to make any improvement, even though it could have been easier for everyone. But no, she’s too stubborn and stuck in her ways.’ His hands had drifted away from the feathers and were now gripping Raphael’s shoulders. Not painfully but strongly. ‘But it could be much better.’ Raphael tried to sit up, but couldn’t. He felt panic beginning to take over his mind. The impending sense of doom that had been following him for a while laughed the maniacal cackle of a dark wizard. 

‘What have you done?’

‘What you want to do but don’t dare to.’ 

‘Lu…’ Lucifer jumped on his feet. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re not pissed off! At Michael for keeping us in here. At God for abandoning us. At this whole blood scheme! She doesn’t speak to us anymore. It’s only the Metatron acting as Her secretary these days!’

‘I know you miss her,’ Raphael said. He sat and passed a hand in his hair to compose himself. ‘But you can’t blame it on Michael or the Metatron.’ 

‘Well, I can’t blame it on Her, can I?’ Raphael stayed silent. Lucifer’s shoulders fell and the anger that had built up in him evaporated. ‘Don’t you? She used to be here all the time. How are we supposed to keep loving her if she doesn’t respect us enough to… She doesn’t even talk to us. What we to Her? Tools? Pawns?’

‘Lu…’ Raphael took his hands in his. ‘It’s—‘

‘Ineffable, I know.’ Lucifer’s face suddenly hardened. ‘But I won’t stay a pawn much longer.’ 

‘Lucifer, what have you done?’ Raphael asked again, more urgently. Tinges of concern were woven in his voice. 

‘Come and see.’ And with those words, Lucifer stood up and headed toward the heart of Heaven, Raphael on his heels.   


_(7) The wings of angels—and demons—aren’t normally white, nor black, nor, as some people suggest, octarine. They are of a colour that the human eye can not see, leaving the human brain to interpret it as black, white, red, pink, blue, green or any other colour depending on the circumstances. _

‘Whatever you’ve started, it’s not too late to repair.’ Lucifer shook his head. Raphael had been trying to change his mind since they had started walking. 

‘I can’t. I made promises and breaking them wouldn’t be very angelic of me.’

‘Defying God wouldn’t be very angelic of you either.’

‘I’m not defying Her, I’m defying Michael.’

‘Same thing,’ Raphael insisted, out of breath from keeping up with Lucifer’s rapid pace.

‘If She doesn’t want us to defy Her, She should care a bit more about us.’ They had, by then, reached their destination. Lucifer could see his angels hidden at strategic points. 

The heart of Heaven, also known as the Archangel’s Lodgings, was a strange place full of contradictions, the main one being that, despite its name, it didn’t have any bedroom, bathroom, kitchen nor living-room. The ceiling was so high one most people assumed there wasn’t one. Columns of windows on the stainless walls of polished white stones were letting the light in, the flying dust dancing in the beams. The cold and white tiles, shiny enough to be mistaken for a mirror, were hidden under heavy rugs—dark blue, sunset red and forest green. Odd furnitures were lined up along the walls, under candelabrums carrying unused candles.It was mostly shelves full of folders and portfolios.

The two giant panels of wood that composed the main door opened on a gigantic hall—angels have little knowledge of interior design. As soon as Lucifer stepped in, the windows exploded and a glass rained. A new ceiling appeared, one made of angels and wings. A violent wind entered. 

Raphael, who hadn’t been expecting this, shielded Lucifer and himself with his wings. A shard of glass lodged itself in the left one, tearing apart muscles, skin and feathers, and eliciting a sharp pain. It felt like his shoulder was on fire. 

‘Half of you to the left, the other half to the right,’ Lucifer commanded. He walked toward the stairs that faced the front door. They were leading to a sparkling fog where the Metatron would appear, now and then. It wasn’t very used. Lucifer didn’t stop when Raphael grabbed his shoulder. He walked up the first steps and turned around. The front door was still open. Behind them, his small army was waiting. Raphael was standing in the middle of the empty hall, looking terrified. ‘Michael must be in one of the workshop,’ Lucifer told him. ‘They’ll bring her anytime now.’ 

Two corridors departed from the Hall. The left one led to small workshops where the archangels had sketched the universe. They weren’t very useful anymore. The right one led to a gigantic amphitheatre used when the archangels needed to talk to the whole of Heaven. It wasn’t used often either. Against Lucifer’s hopes, Michael was nowhere to be found. In fact, the Archangel’s Lodgings were utterly, completely and shamelessly empty. The two groups of angels that had searched them had just told so to Lucifer when it began. 

First came the thunder, like the coming of a thousand birds, their wings flapping in perfect unison and sliding on the billions drops of water that formed the grey clouds. 

Then came the darkness. Light faded away, slowly, as if a curtain had been drawn between the earth and the sky. The dark clouds came together, hiding the smallest spot of azur behind their heavy cover. From them emerged lines of angels armed with flaming swords and spears.

And finally came the ice, the coldness creeping upon Heaven like the sun during the winter solstice, knowing he is unwanted but, nonetheless, doing his duty for dramatic purpose. A blanket of frost covered the trees, the grass and the water. The world froze, as if petrified by the scene about to unfold. The flying army landed, and a field of ice spurred into reality between it and Lucifer’s.

Lucifer made his way back to the front door where his soldiers shuffled to form a path toward the other army. Slowly, never loosing his calm nor composure, Lucifer advanced toward his enemy. On the other side of the ice field, Michael was facing him. 

‘We need to talk,’ she said, with five archangels at her side. Gabriel had a lost look on his face, as if he didn’t understand what was happening. He was holding his sword loosely, sharp point to the ground. 

‘I think we’re past talking, dear.’

‘We’re not!’ Raphael shouted, as he scrambled between the angels, trying desperately to reach Lucifer. His left side was burning and freezing at the same time, and the pain was increasing with each passing moment. It hurt to move, to breathe, to walk. By the time he came out next to Lucifer, he could hardly breath. 

‘Raphael. I see you have chosen your side.’

‘Side? What side?’ Raphael panted frantically. ‘There’s no need to have sides. We just need to sit and talk. Come on. Gabriel, work with me here.’ But Gabriel had distrust and confusion in his eyes, and Raphael saw no help would come from him. 

‘Things need to change, Michael,’ Lucifer began again, ignoring Raphael’s intervention. 

‘Oh really?’ Michael said with mock interest.

‘And it’s clear to me you are unwilling to do anything about it.’ 

‘There’s no praise needed for doing what you’re supposed to do.’

‘Every work, even the most basic one, deserves to be praised and rewarded.’

‘Is that what it’s all about? You don’t feel praised enough?’Watching the exchange was like observing two lions turning around each other, appraising the other’s strengths and weaknesses before attacking with all claws out. He could see movements above him and in the far corner of the gardens, but didn’t know which ‘side’ those angels were on, nor whether he should signal it and, if so, to whom. He didn’t know many things at the moment except that the pain in his back was becoming more and more unbearable. There aren’t many things that can hurt an angel, but it includes all the things that heavenly places are made of.

The last thing he saw before passing out was Michael and Lucifer, one with her spear and the other with his sword, their wings extended, running toward each other and meeting in a clash that made the ground tremble.

Raphael woke up with a headache, which was odd as angels, especially archangels, don’t experience headaches. He was sat on a chair with his arms pulled behind his back and rough ropes tying his wrists together. There was still a dull pain in his left shoulder, but nothing like it had been. 

He opened his eyes. It took him sometime to adjust to the light, but he eventually recognised the Hall and the stairs before him. It was a war zone. There were feathers covering the floor and broken swords discarded all around. The shattered glass was still there, and the wind was blowing through the broken window in a sinister way. A moan on his left made him turn his head. 

Lucifer was tied up in a similar fashion. His ruffled hair, with feathers sticking out of it, and the burns all over his body didn’t reassure Raphael in any way. Smoke was still coming from some of them. 

‘Lucifer?’ Raphael said, trying to rouse his brother. But his broken voice was too low to wake him. He was about to close his eyes again, hoping it would lessen his headache, when he caught something out of the corner of his eyes. Something that cause panic to rise in him. 

It wasn’t the hundreds of unconscious angels tied and left on the floor behind them but the new deep black of his left wing. It had lost its natural colour to turn into a dead appendage, a change even more striking as his other wing was as per usual. Raphael tried to move it. It shuddered. 

He didn’t have time to fully comprehend how it had happened, because Michael chose that time to enter, followed by the Archangels. 

‘Ah, Raphael, you’re awake. Good,’ Michael said.

‘Wha—What’s happening?’ Raphael stuttered. ‘Gabriel?’ The archangel, who was standing at Michael’s right side, was staring somewhere in the distance. The only sign that he had heard his brother was the clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

‘Traitors are punished,’ Uriel replied as Michael walked to Lucifer and tried to wake him up. Raphael looked at them for a moment before turning back toward the others. 

‘My wing, what happened?’ He noticed Gabriel glancing at their siblings before walking to him. 

‘You passed out just at the beginning,’ he murmured. ‘I took you to safety, but it was too late to… I’m sorry. I did what I could but I’m not sure it will heal properly.’ 

Raphael blinked tears away. Gabriel went back to standing beside his siblings. Soon after, Michael, having managed to wake Lucifer up with a strong incense, stood before them. 

‘First, let me inform you that everything that is happening here is transmitted to the rest of Heaven, so that everybody knows what exactly is happening,’ she said. Lucifer laughed humourlessly. 

‘You mean so that everybody witnesses what happens to… What? What are we?’ Michael pinched her lips and took a deep breath. 

‘All of you here will be judged for treason to God.’ Lucifer stayed silent but Raphael heard his breath itch as his own mind started to throb and twirl. He gulped. 

‘We’re not—I’m not—’ he stammered. ‘We’re not traitors!’ Michael looked down at him. 

‘And what do you name this?’ She made a gesture to show the destroyed Hall. 

‘A… mistake?’ This elicited a reaction from Lucifer who snorted and rose his head again. 

‘So Heaven wants to make an example of traitors. Aren’t we to have a trial?’

‘You forsook Justice when you rebelled,’ Michael announced. ‘Besides, Uriel has all the proofs we need.’

Raphael couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. 

‘So what’s gonna happen to us?’ he asked weakly. Whatever the punishment was, he could take it. He had, after all, been the one to give ideas to Lucifer, even if it hadn’t been intentional. After that, it was only a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

‘Gabriel?’ Michael asked. Gabriel took a step forward, but refused to look at the two main culprits. Behind him, the four other archangels were standing still. 

‘The Archangels Lucifer and Raphael are accused of leading a rebellion against God,’ Gabriel’s cold voice announced. ‘They tried, unsuccessfully, to force their way through Heaven. This kind of behaviour should not and will not be tolerated. The sentence is clear. For their act of treason, they and their followers will be expelled from Heaven. The former Archangel Lucifer will be remembered as an example for all. The name of all other angels, including the archangel Raphael, will be erased from our records and memories, leaving only the knowledge of their crime.’

Raphael’s world same crumbling around him and he collapsed on his chair. Lucifer, on the contrary, exploded. 

‘You have no right to decide that,’ he proclaimed, his voice as strong as ever. ‘Where is God? Why isn’t She here?’

‘God has been informed.’ 

‘You mean Metatron has been informed and told you to do as you please,’ Lucifer spatted, ‘like the lazy ass he is.’

‘Do you really think God wouldn’t know about this?’ Michael replied. ‘Do you really think She wouldn’t stop this if she thought it unfair?’ This managed to shut Lucifer for good. 

‘I didn’t force my way anywhere,’ Raphael kept muttering meanwhile. ‘I was just—I just—Questions, that’s all…’ Michael glanced at him before going back to the other archangels. 

‘Now, if that is all…’

Raphael tried to defend himself. He tried to say—to explain—that it was all a mistake, that he hadn’t meant for all this to happen, didn’t even know how it had all happened. But the only thing he saw when he looked was Michael snapping her finger before he could say anything and Gabriel’s bright blue eyes screaming I trusted you. 

A fall always ends with a landing, 

What do you call a fall without an end? 

Fire and Ice, 

Storms and Emptiness.  


Silence.  


Rocks and Lakes

Of Burning Sulfur. 

What is Time when seconds become minutes and minutes turn into hours? 

What means a year, a decade, a century when they are spent twisting and hurting? 

Everything ends, even if it isn’t supposed to. 

He landed on the hard surface, thin rocks piercing his flesh at his shoulders and knees. His whole body was sore and weak. He couldn’t move, not even open his eyes, and so his only link to the outside world, after an eternity of loneliness, was sounds. Moans and weepings were telling him he wasn’t alone, though he didn’t know who the others were. He couldn’t remember. 

The stone was cold and hard under him, a stark contrast with Heaven’s softness. He opened his eyes, eventually, but darkness was the only thing that met his gaze. More moans and groans echoed in the void as more fallen angels woke. Flashes of memories burst in his mind at that thought, threatening to shatter its fragile balance. Lucifer’s bright smile. Gabriel’s laugh. Uriel’s fond scorn. Michael’s stiff posture. Planets being sketched and built. A party. A betrayal. Thinking about Heaven burned more than Falling had. 

Lucifer. He had to find Lucifer. Make sure he was all right. And then, they will find a way to return to Heaven. Gabriel will listen to him. Gathering his strength, he stood up. It was still dark around him, but his eyes were getting accustomed to it. He could make out dark shapes on the ground. The groans seemed to be coming from them. 

‘That’s weird,’ he muttered, clutching his burned rags around his shivering body. His voice rough after screaming for so long. He closed his eyes. 

A hand, the first touch in what seemed like forever, patted his shoulder. Cold lips kissed his forehead and a gentle hand pushed his chin upwards. He opened his eyes. 

Lucifer looked the same and yet, something had changed. There was a new sharpness to his features, as if they had been sculpted in marble, and a new fire in his eyes. He feared to see those reflections in his own face. 

‘We did it, brother,’ Lucifer said.

‘We did what?’ he replied, confused. Lucifer put a hand on his arm to help him stay up. His legs felt weak and his vision was blurring on the edges. The weight of his broken wing added to the difficulty of staying on his feet. 

‘This is our new kingdom.’ Lucifer gestured at the cavern they were in. Water was leaking from above, forming small pound on the uneven ground. Sharp rocks were covering the earth and walls. A few demons had had the misfortune of falling on them. He looked away. 

‘Surely you don’t mean— You don’t want to stay here, do you?’ Lucifer looked at him before taking a step back. The swamp made room for his feet—mainly to avoid being stepped on—and a lizard climbed to sit on his shoulder. 

‘They threw us out of Heaven,’ Lucifer said. ’Where else do you want us to go?’ The swamp was growing at Lucifer’s feet. There were flies and toads and cockroaches and other things hardly recognisable.

‘You weren’t happy in Heaven. But here, we can live in the world together. Or create a new one, one that would be made and enjoyed by us all.’ The swamp didn’t look like it wanted to create a new world. He thought they looked like they’d rather go back to their old bodies. A spider ran from the group and disappeared in the darkness. ‘I’m giving you freedom.’

‘This is not what I wanted,’ he whispered. ‘Not like this.’

‘Sometimes, we don’t know what’s best for us,’ Lucifer said. ‘Besides, She’s abandoned us. And without Her, better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven’. (8) He stared at his brother accusingly. ’Are you disgusted by us?’ Dozens of eyes turned to the guilty. The swamp buzzed angrily. ’Well, perhaps you should see your own self.’ 

On Lucifer’s command, two vultures grabbed his shoulders and pulled him toward a large pond. Something else pushed his hand down and forced him to look at his reflection.

His red long hair, once straight and shiny, were now greasy and full of knots. Like Lucifer, there was a new sharp edge to what had been his soft features. His eyes had turned from a gentle lila to the hard citrine of a snake. The slit pupils were like two inedible proofs of his fault. His lips parted with surprise, letting him see a forked tongue and sharp teeth. The top of his wings was visible too, one of them unchanged and the other grey and sick. The vultures let go of him and he landed in the cold water, unable to tear his eyes away from what he had become. 

‘Pathetic,’ Lucifer said in a voice that was hardly recognisable, followed by the echo of his steps as he walked away. The word hit him like a well-aimed arrow. 

Lucifer and the demons were heading an assembly—somehow the insects could speak—and their voices filled what had been an empty pit. Lucifer’s voice was booming above all others and he was soon joined by a few assertive—yet weaker—demons. They left him alone, and he left them at their business. He simply didn’t care. 

He stayed like this, alone, until they came back, an eternity later. Lucifer’s feet appeared before him and he looked up to his former friend. The eyes that met his were unforgiving. Flies were flying around his head and a toad had taken the place of the lizard on his shoulder.

‘Get up.’ Not knowing why, he obeyed. ‘Now, what should we call you, my pretty little snake?’ Had he the energy, he would have felt disgusted. 

‘Snakes crawl, don’t they, master?’ the toad said. The words were mushed as if he was still figuring out how to speak. ‘Crawly would be all right.’

‘Crawly…’ Lucifer repeated, letting the name slide on his tongue. He was tapping his fingers absentmindedly. ‘My sweet Crawly, we have a mission for you.’ He was obviously waiting for him to ask, but the fallen archangel stayed silent. Lucifer sighed. ‘Since you’re so keen on going back up there, we’d like you to go. See, the—’

‘Is it possible?’ Lucifer smirked. 

‘Well, that’s the thing, Crawly. We don’t know. But we trust you’ll do all you can to succeed. Now, where was I. Yes, they have created the Humans. The both of them are now in the Garden. I want you to go up there and cause some trouble.’

‘And if I don’t?’ Lucifer smiled. 

‘You don’t want to disappoint me.’ There was a promise in those words. 

Crawly nodded. 

_(8) Lucifer didn’t really say this line, but he got so angry for not thinking it itself when Milton wrote it that History rewrote itself.  
_

Had he been asked how he had reached the Garden, Crawly wouldn’t have been able to tell. It was like a bad dream half-remembered. There had been the fear of falling again as his left wing was still too weak to carry him properly, the despair as he went up alone on an unknown path, the knowledge that he couldn’t fail mixed with the question of why not? What had he still to lose? 

He had morphed into a snake when close to his destination, and had crawled in the secret hiding that were the green bushes and leafy shrubs, away from the prying eyes of angels. 

There had been a brook there, with water so clear that the small fishes were visible between the pebbles. It was like music to Crawly’s ears. He had changed back into his humanoid form and had ran into it without care as to what might happen. Fortunately, the water had only cleaned him (9) and his skin had turned red by the time he had gotten out of it. It felt like he had rubbed Hell out of his body—amazing, in short. 

  


_(9) Besides, it was not yet known that holy water could destroy demons._

_  
_

His reflection in the brook almost looked like his old self, if you looked past the eyes, tongue and wing. Crawly’s eyes lingered on his wing. It would never revert to its original colour. But, Crowley thought, if darkness was to be forced upon him, he might as well own it and make it his. And so he wished his other wing black. Pleased with his decision, Crawly made another attempt. When the black cloth he had tried to miracle into existence appeared before him, life started to take a shiny turn. 

He morphed back into a snake and slide toward the Tree. The guards mostly kept at the gates, leaving hardly any risk of them seeing him. The humans, on the contrary, were roaming free in the Garden. But Crawly soon understood that the walls were there to protect them from the outside world as much as to keep them away from it. Which didn’t make much sense, did it? It was as logical as putting a big apple tree where everyone could see it and order people not to eat the fruits. So no sense at all. Well, Crawly thought as he observed Eve picking up flowers, if asking questions had been enough to kick him out of Heaven, maybe it would kick them out of the Garden too. And then, who knew what might happen (10). He advanced toward her, preparing the well-thought words that would convince her to eat th—

‘Excuse me, what are you doing?’ 

Crowley froze. If he had had legs, he would probably have jumped behind on the trick trees but, as things were, he could only stop moving and hope that whoever had talked would confuse him with a dead piece of wood.

‘I am really sorry to impose but, well, you aren’t supposed to be here, and I’d rather not use my sword, you see. It would be a horribly ugly business, all of it. And this is really not the place for it.’ Crowley didn’t move. ‘Are you… Er… Are you hurt?’ The sound of steps followed, and an angel draped in a white toga appeared. He kept his sword away from Crowley, as he feared that putting anywhere near a demon would cause its immediate combustion. Crowley tensed when he saw it.Maybe, with any luck, he would be quick enough to survive. Despite all that had happened lately, he wasn’t keen of disappearing from existence just yet. The angel kneeled before Crowley. ‘Are you all right?’ Crowley blinked. He didn’t know whether snakes could cry but he did know that his eyes were less dry than per usual. ‘Oh dear,’ the angel fussed. ‘Er—Do you mind if I—‘ When Crowley gave the smallest nod, he patted his head in what could be called a reassuring touch. ‘There, there. It’s all going to be all right. I mean, I don’t know what you demons do but, er, surely it can’t be worse than what has already happened.’ Crowley eyes the sword. ‘Oh, don’t worry. We’re not supposed to use them. I think. It wouldn’t be very angelic of us, would it?’ He chuckled, the vibration transferring to his hand and Crowley’s head. ‘No, I think it’s more the show. I would prefer if they weren’t deadly, though.’ Crowley blinked again and started to weight the probability of the river inducing hallucinations. ‘Anyway,’ the angel said as he stood up, ‘I, er, I should probably go. I’ll be at the Eastern Gate, if you need anything.’ Crowley watched him walk away, hardly believing it. This angel was, without doubt, either the most angelic or the dumbest or the most faithful in ineffability he had ever met. Probably the three of those at the same time. He would have followed him, had Eve not chose this time to start heading away from the Tree. Crowley put his plan in action. 

  


_(10) It didn’t occur to him that all this might be part of the ineffable plan._

On his way back to Hell, Crowley couldn’t forget the angel. It had been too long since he had had a normal conversation with someone else. Who knew, maybe there will be a second fall, and they would see each other again downstairs. The white-winged angel who gave his sword away. The humans had surprised him too, by escaping on their own will, and not because Michael or God had thrown them out. Food for thoughts. And really, having a thunderstorm for the first rain was an over-reaction. Crowley sighed. The kindness of the angel was a sweet memory when the gates of Hell opened before him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I still need to edit and add some scenes in this chapter, but I wanted to post it before going on vacations. Be ready for an updated version (and the following chapters) when I come back (late august). Till then, have a nice summer y'all ;)


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